


Four Letter Words

by RebelVale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelVale/pseuds/RebelVale
Summary: Incarcerated In Azkaban Draco Malfoy is fighting to hold on to his sanity. With nothing to do and no one to speak to, he invents games to try to keep his mind agile. Hoping that if he ever leaves the prison he will do so with some measure of sanity, so he tries to recall his life in four letter words.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 11
Kudos: 54





	Four Letter Words

**Blue**

He could not remember the last time he had seen the **blue** of a summer sky. It was one of the things he had taken for granted, one of the things that he had not missed until it was gone. Now, with only his thoughts for company, as the darkness crowded him in his damp and mouldering cell Draco reached desperately for meaningful thought. He needed thoughts that would anchor him, thoughts that would give safe harbour to his sanity.

**Fear**

Draco had counted every stone in his dungeon. His fingers, cracked and sore, had traced every inch of the walls, mapped every crevice and all its flaking mortar. He had lost all sense of time; all sense of perspective and soon, Draco was certain, he would lose his mind. That was his most deep seated fear; it was not the incarceration, not the nightmares that plagued his dreams, nor the memory of her screams. The real **fear** was losing his mind becoming, like his aunt, so unhinged that death would be the only release from his encroaching lunacy.

**Sane**

So Draco played little games, anything he could envisage to occupy his brain. He counted; the footsteps of the guards, the seconds between their visits, the flakes of rust on his chains. He made up stories, made his guards imaginary villains, himself the hero and always she was his love.Draco knew Azkaban was not a place of hope and reconciliation but a place of torment and pain. They intended to drive him to madness but it was Draco’s last act of defiance that he would not fall into that circle of hell. He would stay **sane** and if, by some miracle, he ever got out of there his lucidity would be testament to his innocent, for how, they would ask, could a man tormented by his demons survive this place intact?

**Game**

It had been 526, 600 minutes since he had last held his wand but he rehearsed his spells anyway, though he knew he might never get to use his wand again. He had tried wandless magic but something, he suspected within the walls, dampened his power. Wandless magic would not work. So his new **game** commenced, he began to count his vocabulary. Single and two letter words did not amuse him for long but four letter words...now there there were possibilities. Draco believed he could tell his life story in significant four letter words and so he began to recite them to himself those episodes of his life influenced by four letter words and they began with ‘envy’.

**Envy**

He had thought it was hatred but it was not it was jealousy. Draco envied her her friendships, her brilliance and how she was loved. How could she, a worthless muggle-born, outshine him in every thing. He had wanted to prove his superiority he had tried so hard, spent hours in the library unobserved by his fellow Slytherins. Yet no matter how hard he tried he still could not defeat her. He realised now that they had pushed each other to extremes. The closer to her grades he got the more she needed to prove herself. So he was eaten up by **envy**.

**Lies**

His only consolations had been that he beat her in potions and that she could not fly. She was not exceptional at everything. But that consolation was coloured by his burgeoning confusion. She should not have been exceptional at anything. He had been told all his life that he was better than the likes of her and yet her very existence seemed to give the lie to everything he had ever learned. His whole life, all his expectations, had been coloured by his father’s **lies**.

**Epic**

His father’s disappointment had reached epic proportions. ‘How could a Malfoy be second to a mud-blood?’ He had ranted. He had never seen his father so vexed, he had feared for a moment that he would beat him for his failure. ‘I am sure she has been cheating father,’ he had tentativelysuggested, ‘I will seek to expose her next academic year. She will not out rank me again.’ He had promised. It had been a promise he could not keep. His father’s disappointment in him only deepened by his **epic** failure.

**Hate**

He could not prove that Granger was a cheat and as she continued to out perform him he grew to **hate** her and he knew that she despised him equally. Their battle of wits was legendary, the slurs becamemoreand more elaborate, almost elegant. He hadbegun to keep score, they were fairly even, he had thought he could live with that, that was until she accused him of buying his way onto the quidditch team. He had roiled with anger, it had been an unjust accusation he was an accomplished flyer, and the unforgivable words had rolled from his lips, ‘mud-blood.’It would not be the first time he would see the pain in her eyes nor the first time he would feel sick as he noted the impact his words had upon her. Though he knew he could not be seen to take it back, to apologise to her, it had been the first time he had thought himself an utter bastard. The first time he had hated himself but it would not be the last.

**Lust**

He could not believe how beautiful she was. He had not been the only one to stare open mouthed at the petite Gryffindor but he may have been the only one who’s groin had tightened as she looked at him from the corner of her eye. He had wondered if he had imagined it but she seemed to have issued a challenge. Silently she defied him to call her filthy now. Salzasar save him but from that moment on he wanted her and he was tormented by that desire. His nights were filled by fantasies of her. His **lust** knew no bounds, he imagined her pinned against the library stacks as he took her from behind but his teenage dreams were dim compared to the bright reality of taking her in his arms.

**Lost**

As he returned to school at the beginning of their fifth year he had **lost** his appetite for batting with her. He retained his sneers for her two friends. He hated Potter and Weasley but not because of their views, not because Potter was Dumbledore’s poster boy for the light. It was always much simpler than that. He hated them because they had her. He fully expected that sooner or later she would date one of them and he could not bear that thought. Could not bear the thought that when she did she would be lost to him forever. So, for Potter and Weasley he maintained his sneering veneer, but for her there was no longer any heat in it.

**Bury**

As that year came towards its end all he could do was **bury** his feelings for her deep. He had sought any means of distraction. He had thrown himself into his new sex life vigourously. There was no shortage of witches willing to bed the Malfoy heir and once he had lost his virginity he tried very hard to forget her in the arms of other witches. None of them measured up- it was her name he wanted to scream as he came undone. He feared it was only a matter of time before he slipped up and called her name. He could not help but imagine that it was Granger that lay beneath him, that he was buried in her warmth. The novelty of his sexual encounters soon wore thin as he realised there was only one girl he truly desired.

**Kiss**

It had been a chance encounter, she had literally ploughed into him, arms full of books and not looking where she was going. She apologised politely without even looking to see who her victim was. It was an insane gamble on his part to capture her lips. There was no one around, no one would know if she hexed him but she had been so close, her breath mingled with his own as he knelt before her as she scrambled to recover the tomes she had lost. He took a chance and before the apology had dried on her lips he had leaned in. It was a bold move to **kiss** her like that but the reward was worth it. She had kissed him back. It was all too brief he dare not linger but he was exhilarated as he walked away watching her bring her fingers to her swollen lips.

**Ache**

Reality had soon crashed in. He knew he should never have touched her, not because she was filthy as his father would have him believe, but because that one kiss would haunt him. He ached for more and it was an **ache** that would not be sated no matter how many others he kissed. He wanted to feel her in his arms again, he never believed he would have the opportunity. Her friends guarded her too closely that was until the evening he round an aisle in the library and she was there all alone.

**Silk**

His feet had compelled him towards her, he had almost expected her to run. But she had stayed and when it became plain what he intended to do he would swear she leaned in first. He had buried his hands in her hair. He could almost feel it now like liquid **silk** as it ran thought his fingers. She had moaned into his mouth and ground into him with such wanton desire. They had never spoken a word to each other in kindness but their passion spoke volumes as he took her that first time in the depths of the library.

**Want**

His desire for her was not sated. He had hoped that his torment would be over if he could just taste her once, he had reasoned, the desire would go away.He was wrong. The longing had not eased and he seemed to see her everywhere. His **want** only grew stronger. Then the summer came and everything changed. The slim hope that he might one day be with her shattered.

**Pain**

For his sixteenth birthday he had received a gift of torment. He had returned home to find a malevolent presence. He had never known **pain** like it. Every nerve fibre burned. He had wanted to amputate his own arm. Even that he had reasoned was better than to live with the shame. He returned to school for his sixth year but everything had changed, he had changed. Despite his bravado Draco was scared. No one seemed to notice no one except her. She had looked at him pained as if it broke her heart to see him. He dare not, could not look at her. He felt unclean.

**Love**

He had not known he loved her not until he wanted to die in her place. He watched in useless horror as she writhed and screamed on his own drawing room floor. His anguish was such he thought he might loose his mind. He tasted blood as he bit his own tongue but his **love** was not enough to save her. He watched helpless as his aunt rounded on her like Granger was carrion his fingernails digging into his palms to leavecrescent shaped scars, a permanent reminder of his cowardice.

**Slur**

Her screams of agony haunted him here even in the darkness of his cold dark cell. Nothing he could have done then or now could erase the **slur** Bellatrix craved into her arm. ‘Mud-blood’ the word ran scarlet down her forearm and it had emblazoned itself on his retina. Still as he closed his eyes he could see it livid and burning in the darkness. It had almost broken him. To have watched her pain and to have done nothing. What sort of man did that? One he knew who was undeserving of her love. Logically he had known there was nothing he could do but he should have been prepared to die with her to die for her if that was what it took. He could still hear Weasley scream for her. It was chastening to know that the redhead was a better, braver man.

**Soft**

Even his self loathing was not enough to prevent him from dreaming of her. Though he knew he was unworthy he still dreamt of her warm breath ghosting across his lips and the **soft** feel of her skin. He could not hope to ever feel that silken flesh beneath his hands again but here in the silent gloom he could dream. Dream of her scent, her smile, her forgiveness.

**Warm**

He could dream that one day he would be **warm** again. One day he would sit before his fire. He would enjoy the simple pleasures of life. A fire whiskey in one hand and a good book in the other. He would not allow himself to hope for more. He knew he did not deserve it and the stars had never looked kindly on him. Alone he would wallow in his self-loathing and self pity or perhaps he could do some good. He would give what remained of his wealth to charity. It would not ease his conscience but he did not deserve the comfort wealth could bring.

**Dark**

Perhaps he deserved to moulder in the **dark** until old age stole his last breath from him. The boy who had let Death Eaters into a school. He would die in infamy, his name a curse on the tongues of the righteous. She would never think of him again. She would bury deep the knowledge that she had once kissed him. Ashamed of her lack of judgement. If he could obviate her, to take that guilt away, he would.

**Balm**

Someone whispered in the chilling all pervasive draft, as if his thoughts had conjured it, her voice called to him.

“Draco,” she whispered, “are you alright?”The sound was like a **balm** to him. Though he had dreamt it. Though it was a figment of his imagination he marvelled at the clarity of her voice. As if she were here with him in the darkness.

“Can you hear me Draco?”

“Is he alright?” a deeper counterpoint echoed from the shadows.

“Do you know me Draco. It’s Hermione. Do you remember me?”

‘Though you are a phantom I would know you anywhere.’ His inner voice answered.

He shivered as the spectators finger tips traced his chin and tilted his face upwards.

**Calm**

Her smile was like sunshine. Her eyes pools of melted caramel. Sweet and tempting. **Calm** washed over him. He could bear the darkness, the loneliness with this phantom beside him. Though it was a mere shadow of her memory. If he could hold it tight...

“Stay,” he croaked his voice rough from disuse. “Don’t leave me. I have been so lonely without you.”

“I’ve come to take you home.”

“You are my home,” he told her spirit.

**Safe**

He knew one day she would come to save him. He had known a long time that in the end she would be his redemption. He smiled at the shadow. He would be **safe** now. Perhaps he could sleep a little. His angel would guard him. Her halo of riotous curls beckoned him to reach out his hand. The were as soft as he recalled.

**Sigh**

“Hermione.” Her name was a **sigh** on his lips. Warm breath ghosted his lips and he smiled as sweet lips pressed his own.

**Hope** had finally found him.

**Author's Note:**

> The starting point for this work was, as you can obviously tell, was a list of four letter words. I tired with this one shot to create uncertainty in the reader. Was she really there to save him? Or had his sanity finally drained away?
> 
> Please feedback I would love your thought on whether I succeeded in creating the ambiguity at the end.


End file.
